


A Life So Changed

by theWickedWitchofFeels



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Titanic, F/F, Multi, RMS Titanic, hymn to the sea, sad tears of sadness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3902476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theWickedWitchofFeels/pseuds/theWickedWitchofFeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Swan Queen Titanic!AU</p><p>When Emma Swan wins tickets on the RMS Titanic to join her son Henry in America, she's in for a bit more than she bargained for, which she finds when she meets first-class Regina Mills, betrothed to be married to the roguish, abusive (but rich) Robin Hood by her mother, Cora. When disaster strikes, both of them must make a choice between where they came from and who they could be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

\- Prologue- Modern Day -

 

Wrinkled, careworn hands caressed the soft paper in long, smooth strokes, leaving behind long stripes of colored chalk. The woman's deep, dark brown eyes, still bright and vital despite the weathering of time, examined her work as she blended colors together masterfully.

"Grandmum?" A young woman, about twenty or so - the elder woman had lost count - poked her head into her grandmother's art room. "Dad's on the phone."

She nodded mutely, looking up briefly. Henry's daughter, just as much a firecracker as her true grandmother. She couldn't know that, of course. Henry himself barely remembered her. She, on the other hand, looked at the girl and saw...her. Saw her in the way she tossed her long blonde hair. Saw her in the way her blue-gray eyes sparkled after scoring a home run during the family softball game, in the grateful smile she gave whenever she would put a warm cup of hot chocolate and cinnamon in front of her. It was enough to make a superstitious old woman such as she almost believe in reincarnation.

Almost.

She drew herself up to her feet with a sigh as her granddaughter reentered the room, phone in hand.

"Mom?"

"Hello, Henry," the old woman rasped, brushing chalk dust off on her skirt.

"Turn on your TV," Henry said urgently. "There's something you likely should see. Hopefully it's rerunning right now...it should be."

She covered the mouthpiece briefly. "Rose? Turn on the TV, love."

Her granddaughter obeyed.

"...an expedition to the most famous shipwreck of all time, that of the RMS Titanic, which went down April 15th, 1912." The camera panned out over an unfamiliar research ship, somewhere in the middle of the vast sea.

The old woman's mouth twitched. What are you getting at, Henry?

The shot changed, to that of a sheet of paper being carefully cleaned in a tank of water. On the sheet of paper curled lines, carefully drawn over a hundred years ago: forming dark eyes, a fine neck, ample breasts curving into a shapely waist, long, flowing black hair; a diamond perched in the soft valley of her neck...a young woman, in the prime of her life, lying naked with a carefree smile on her face, and love smoldering deep in her eyes.

"...The Heart of the Sea, believed to have been lost with the Titanic after its last known owner was believed to have perished in the sinking..."

The old woman's heart skipped a beat. "Mom?"

The camera panned down slightly, and there it was, the proof: an achingly familiar pair of initials.

E. S.

"Henry. Can you phone me over to the people with that drawing?" she asked hoarsely. 

"Yes, mom."

A beep."Hello?" a new voice, deeper and shiftier than her son's.

"I saw the drawing on the television, and I think I may know something that you do not."

The old woman closed her eyes. "So tell me, have you found the Heart of the Sea yet?"

A loaded pause. "Okay. You've got my attention. Do you know who the girl in the drawing is?"

Her mouth twitched. "Ah, yes. The girl in the drawing is me."

"And who, pray tell, is this?"

"Swan." She closed her eyes. "Regina Swan."

—-  
Regina's eyes had seemed perpetually close to tears ever since they found the drawing, and from the dull ache in her chest she doubted it was solely due to the dryness. Here she was, back in the middle of the Atlantic. Where she had lived, died, only to be pulled from the depths. A baptism of sorts. Ah, she was a sentimental old woman; but who could blame her? She now was as close as she would ever get to being home.

The voice she had revealed herself to was revealed to be a man, known simply as Mr. Gold. The name suited him; to Regina's eyes he seemed callow, seeing only treasure such as the diamond, or whatever it actually was he sought for on the Titanic. It was a shame, really, but he had been the one to recover her drawing. Regina had to give credit where it was due.

They took her below decks in her wheelchair, Henry having joined Regina and Rose in the Boston airport on the way here. Artifacts were laid on counters just at her eye level. They wheeled her over to the tank of water where lay the drawing.  
It was real. The grainy, blurred view she'd seen on her television gave way to reality. She could nearly hear the scrapes of the pencil, the smell of the paper and graphite mixed with hers, a heady brew that set her heart afire.

A shaky hand touched deep red lips. They showed her a scientific retelling of the night of the sinking - the iceberg crash, my how she had jumped; she had laughed at the time, not knowing what was to come - the Titanic splitting, the stern bobbing for a few extra heartbeats then sinking, leaving them... to their fate...Regina's heart jolted with sorrow, and she covered her face with her hands, closing her eyes tightly against the flood of memories.

"Grandmum!" Rose was by her side in a flash, soft hands gripping her shoulders. "She needs to rest. I'm taking her back to her room - "

"No!" Regina protested, trying to shake her off. "No!"

Rose left her be at a warning glance from still-fearsome eyes, the steely fire in them blazing anew now after so many years.

Mr. Gold set an audio recorder on the table next to him. "Tell us, Regina." he urged. "Take us back to Titanic."

Regina closed her eyes. "It's been eighty-four years."

"I know," Gold said hastily. "Just try to remember - "

Regina opened her eyes and gave him a glare. "Do you want to hear this story or not, Mr. Gold?"

That silenced the man thoroughly enough. She continued: "It's been eighty-four years. And I can still smell the fresh paint...Titanic was called 'the ship of dreams'. And it was...

"It really was."


	2. Chapter 1 - April 10th, 1912

The young blonde woman bit her lip, her ragged fingernails digging into the soft wood of the poker table as she stared at her hand of cards. 

“Whatcha got, Rubes?” she hissed out of the corner of her mouth to her companion, a younger brunette.

Ruby gritted her teeth and shook her head sadly at her. Emma frowned deeply. 

“Moment of truth, guys,” she announced. “Someone’s life is about to change. Ruby?”

The brunette slammed her cards down on the table with a groan; it was a weak hand, only one match. 

Next, a burly man named Sven put his down. A threeway match. His buddy put his down; two matches. 

Emma winced dramatically. “I’m sorry Ruby…” 

“Sorry?! What the hell! I need to help Granny - “ Ruby blustered.

“You’re not gonna see Granny for a long time,” Emma said, gripping her friend’s hand as her eyes flashed triumphantly. “‘Cause we’re going to America! Full house boys!” 

The bar exploded at this proclamation. Sven and his buddy upturned the table, leaving Emma and Ruby to scramble clear as shot glasses shattered and whiskey went everywhere. Emma scrambled to snatch up the tickets before Sven’s meaty hands could steal them away from her.

“No man defeats me!” Sven declared, advancing threateningly towards the two women. Emma shoved Ruby behind her, a roguish grin spreading over her face.

“Yeah well, buddy,” Emma grinned, whipping her long blonde hair out of its knot at the back of her head and shaking it out, “I am no man!” 

She delivered a sound punch to the thug’s face, knocking Sven backwards into the bar with a resounding CRASH. Emma seized Ruby’s hand and dragged her behind her as she hauled butt out of the bar, leaving Sven to lick his wounded dignity. 

“Hahaaa!” Emma whooped as they dashed headlong through the chaos of the Southampton dock. “We’re the luckiest bitches in the world! The Titanic, Ruby! America!” 

Ruby narrowly avoided running into a pair of horses pulling a carriage. “If we don’t get trampled first!” 

“Thank you Miss Buzzkill,” Emma laughed; she couldn’t help it. She was going to see her son again - she could start again. It was everything she had dreamed of, come true in a heartbeat. 

“Yeah well this buzzkill doesn’t want to miss her ship! Move your ass, Swan!” Ruby snapped as the last call-whistle blew for passengers to board. 

The brunette led the way up the nearly-empty third class gangplank. They shoved their tickets at the doorman, who eyed the pair suspiciously. 

“No husbands?” he asked.

“Dead. We’re going back to family in America,” Emma lied swiftly. 

“You’ve been through the check?” 

Ruby glared. Emma nodded. “Yes, and besides we’re American. Clear enough?” 

He shrugged. “All right, come aboard.” 

They pushed past him onboard the ship, making their way down to steerage with a flood of other immigrants. Emma led the way to the room indicated on their tickets. “I call top bunk!”

Ruby shoved past her, wrestling for the bunk. Emma acquiesced to her, swinging her rucksack onto the bottom bunk. The final whistle blew, signaling departure.

“Come on, Rubes!” Emma seized her friend’s hand again, dragging her up to the open deck and to the very tip of the bow.Wind whipped their faces as they hung over the rail, waving wildly.

“Why are we doing this?” Ruby asked, bewildered. “The only family I have is Granny, and she’s in London.”

“I haven’t got any, Rubes, that’s not the point!” Emma shouted. “BYE! I’M NOT GONNA MISS ANY OF YOU AT ALL!” 

Ruby rolled her eyes at her friend. “DITTO!” she yelled, spluttering as some of Emma’s hair blew into her face and mouth. 

Steam billowed from the ship’s huge boilers, and they slowly slipped away from the dock, moving faster and faster as they went. The wind from the Titanic’s swift passage took Emma’s hair and waved it gently out behind her like a golden banner.

“Look, look!” Ruby shouted suddenly, pointing down. 

Emma followed her gaze down to where the knife’s-edge of the bow cut its way through the sea. There far below them leapt one silver shape after another - dolphins, playing joyfully in the bow-wave of the Titanic.

Emma let out another exhilarated whoop at the sight, throwing her arms out as if she were a bird. “I’m the Queen of the world!” she declared.

“You are a goofball, Swan,” Ruby laughed in her ear. Emma blew a razzberry in response.

“Ach, I’m going below decks. You coming?” Ruby sighed after a moment, shivering in the cold wind. 

Emma nodded, but when she turned to go below deck, something caught her eye that gave her pause. A gorgeous woman standing a deck over her, in first class, her face shaded by a gigantic lavender hat. Her face was absolutely lovely, deep, dark brown eyes gazing out from a face framed with long curled locks of raven hair, but her expression was hard, numb, like a trapped animal resigned to its fate. Emma was transfixed by her beauty, but her heart worried inexplicably. 

A man came up behind the woman, putting his arm around her shoulder. Emma could see her flinch. The woman glanced down briefly, and Emma’s heart jumped as their eyes met. 

Just as quickly as she had come, though, the woman was gone. Ruby was standing petulantly at the door, her arms crossed sternly. 

“Emma!” she growled. “Get your bloody head out of La-La Land and get below before you get swept off to Oz or something!” 

Emma stuck out her tongue at Ruby childishly and followed her inside, but she couldn’t get the image of the trapped woman out of her mind. 

For the next day or so, she wandered the ship, drawing and observing her fellow steerage passengers, but she didn’t see her again. Not until that night.

Emma lay on her back on a bench, alone up on the steerage open deck. It was cold out in the middle of the Atlantic - probably why most had retreated inside by now - but she didn’t mind too much, her hiding spot afforded enough shelter from the wind, and she was tough-skinned from life on the streets. The stars glimmered high above her, and though Emma would never admit it in front of no-nonsense Ruby, she felt drawn to them. Like if she gazed up at them long enough, perhaps she would see Neal again in their light. Maybe Henry would be looking at them too and think of her. 

Perhaps. Ah, perhaps.

The sudden sound of high heels clattering swiftly against the wood of the deck jolted Emma out of her reverie. She sat up, spying a fleeing figure in a long, deep red dress run past her, her long black hair streaming behind her in her wind, and sobs wracking her thin body mercilessly.

Emma’s blood seemed to run cold as she saw the woman stop at the railing over the stern, her back turned so she couldn’t see her face, but she had her head bowed, probably gazing down at the frigid sea below. 

Rising to her feet, she made her way towards the lone woman. It was the same woman all right, the trapped bird trying to escape the only way she knew how. 

She padded towards her, heart pounding, her hand outstretched. 

“Please...don’t do it.” 

\---

 

Regina gazed out of the carriage window at the crowded dock, her eyes blank and unfocused. Her heart seemed to be beating a mile a minute, as if by doing so it could somehow escape this trap she had found herself in - or rather, been corralled into like some animal for sale to the highest bidder. 

She felt that bidder’s hand close on her upper arm. She closed her eyes in resignation, reminding herself of her position. She glanced at Robin with a forced smile. “It doesn’t seem that much larger than the Mauretania,” she observed disdainfully. 

Robin gave a short laugh, glancing back at Cora. “Your daughter is far too hard to please,” he said. Regina pulled her arm free of Robin’s hand and, as the carriage came to a stop, carefully got up and stepped out onto the busy dock. 

Her eyes scanned the length of Titanic from under the wide lavender brim of her hat. She vaguely heard Robin ordering his valet Hook to get the luggage on board, but next moment she felt his arm loop through hers and she had little choice but to follow him across the gangplank to the ship. 

She managed to slip away when Robin walked ahead to talk to Cora about something. She made her way along the first-class promenade, coming to stand at a deck high up above the ship just as it began to pull away from the dock. 

She drew herself up to her full height, taking a deep breath in as the wind began to whip by her. She reached up and traitorously let loose her long, raven-black hair that her mother had had the servants do up in a tight, decorative bun that morning. It was all the freedom she would ever be able to afford, now, and even then she was sure she would have to pay later in underhandedly hurtful rants from Cora. 

Now, though, she simply watched the dock slide away. She hadn’t any family down there, so she didn’t bother to wave. She simply gazed out with unfocused eyes, lost in her own thoughts.  
This voyage was not of her choosing; much less so its reason, her impending marriage to Robin. The man was distasteful in the highest sense to Regina; perhaps once she had been fine by him, could have even come to love him, but his abusive ways had come to light not a week after their engagement was finalized. She could see it in the way he controlled her, shoving her about like an unruly filly needing to be tamed. She had tried time and time again to plead with Cora to allow her to call the wedding off; but she had not listened, the richness of Robin’s bankroll being well more than enough to give her daughter away for. 

What neither Cora nor Robin bargained for, however, was the fire that Regina carried. They saw it on occasion, in the hard glares she would often give them in lieu of what she truly wanted to say, but they never recognised it for what it was. Regina’s heart burned with hatred for both of them, hatred of her life, hatred of this cage she was trapped in.  
Her nostrils flared in anger as her gaze wandered the ship, her heart burning within her as her mind cast about and landed on the only way out of her cage, the only place to go where Robin and her mother could never find her. 

Even as she came to her conclusion, though, something caught her eye. A golden banner of hair, waving like a flag in the wind of the Titanic’s passage. The owner turned her head to look at her companion, and in doing so revealed herself: a woman with a lovely face, gentle and yet somehow sharp, like she was the type who could deliver sweet nothings and blunt remarks in the same breath, without batting an eye. She was dressed in typical third-class getup, more like a streetboy than a proper lady, but something about the way she carried herself told Regina she found no shame in this. 

The blonde woman started to follow her brunette companion below decks, but inexplicably, she looked up and locked gazes with Regina. Her eyes were the type that it was impossible to describe what, precisely, color they were; they were gray with swirls of other colors, and gazed up at her with an expression of silent wonder and, was that worry? 

She winced as she felt an all-too-familiar arm snake around her shoulder. “Come along, darling,” Robin cooed in her ear. She gave the strange woman one last, almost pleading look, then followed him reluctantly inside. 

Time seemed to melt together after that. The day slipped past her: the expected chastising from Cora about her hair, its painful redoing by their maid, and finally dinner with Captain Smith, a man who was technically a passenger but seemed awfully boastful about Titanic regardless - she learned later he was Bruce Ismay, director of the White Star Line - and Thomas Andrews, the designer of the ship itself. The only person Regina truly liked was the woman sitting a few seats away from her, a portly middle-aged woman named Margaret Brown, newly rich but none the less bold for it. 

“Lamb for the both of us, rare, richly seasoned,” Robin ordered. Regina cast one of her looks at him, but said nothing. 

“You going to cut her meat for her too, there, Robin?” Margaret asked him with a snort. “What sort of a name is that, anyway, bucko?”

“After my father,” Robin snapped at her. Regina gave her a grateful glance, which Margaret returned with a conspiratorial wink.

Unfortunately for her, Cora spotted the exchange. “Regina,” she said warningly. 

Regina only gave her a weary glance. 

That night, she slipped quietly from the bed she shared with Robin, thanking her lucky stars that he’d drunk heavily, and so would likely have slept through the apocalypse. She made her way out on deck, and only there did she finally break down, finally run sobbing past faceless strangers that didn’t even bother to ask if she was alright, just like everyone in her life, seeing her silently screaming but doing nothing, nothing…

Well, she had had enough. Tears blurred her vision as she made her way to the stern of the ship, as she silently padded towards the railings that represented the only thing separating her from a plunge to her death.

Death was all she had left now. 

She could hear the huge propellers of the ship working far beneath her, and she peered over the railing. The sea was black, cold, and unknown, but Regina had gotten to the point where she didn’t care anymore. Even the unknown was better than the known.

She took a deep breath, putting one foot, then the other on the lowest rung of the railing. She swung her leg over with some difficulty, pulling the skirt of her dress up and out of the way. Next heartbeat she just stood there, clinging to the back of the ship with nothing but her death grip on the railing keeping her from falling. 

I’m...so sorry...she breathed.

But before she could let go, a sudden voice echoed from behind her, low and caring such as she had never known.

“Please...don’t do this.”


	3. Chapter 2

Fear lanced through her; she only barely kept herself from letting go out of sheer surprise. “Stay back!” she called, twisting her head. “Don’t come any closer.” 

Her eyes rounded in shock. It was the same blonde woman she’d seen that morning all right, only now much closer, and with a very definitely look of worry in her green-gray eyes. 

“Come on,” she said, a hand outstretched placatingly. “Take my hand; I’ll pull you back over.”

“No!” Regina called back, her spine stiffening threateningly. “I mean it! I’ll let go.”

The woman came closer, her eyes never wavering from Regina’s. They were so soft, so human - neither Cora nor Robin had ever looked at her that way…

“No you won’t,” the woman said in a soft tone, yet loud enough to be heard over the rushing of the water below. 

Regina’s brows furrowed. “Oh, really? You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’m capable of.” 

“No, but I know where you are.” she replied. “If you were, you would have done it by now.” 

Regina glanced back at her. “I don’t have a choice. I can’t go back.” 

“There’s always a choice.” the woman came up just behind her. She yanked off her jacket, then bent to pull off her boots. “Don’t let them take that from you too.” 

Regina frowned at her. “What are you doing?” 

“I can’t just let you die. I’m too involved now.” she replied bluntly. 

Regina gave a sharp laugh. “You are insane,” she snapped. “You’ll die too.” 

The woman didn’t respond right away. Instead, she simply held eye contact with Regina, green-gray eyes boring into brown. The brunette found that she couldn’t look away.

“I’m tough,” she said.

Regina had given this more thought than that. “The fall will kill you. That’s if you don’t manage to land right on those propellers.”

The blonde woman tipped her head, as if to say I’m not following your logic there, lady. “Yes, that’ll hurt.” she said casually. “But I’m personally more concerned about how damn cold that water is.”

Regina’s brow furrowed. She tried to look away, but her arms had begun to shake from renewed fear. “How cold?” she asked.

“Freezing, maybe a couple of degrees over.” the woman told her. “You ever been to Maine?” 

Regina glanced at her in surprise, which answered the blonde’s question. 

“Alright. Well, in Maine we’ve got some of the coldest winters around.” the blonde continued, reaching a hand up to her bun and shaking it free. “One time when I was little, my dad took me out deep-sea fishing in our little family boat. I fell overboard on accident and let me tell you - “ she leaned on the railing, looking down at the black water below. “It hits you like a thousand knives all over your body. It’s near impossible to hold your breath, because you want to scream, but even on the surface you’re too numb to. You can’t think, at least not about anything but the pain.” 

Regina swallowed past the growing lump in her throat. She wasn’t sure which was giving her more pause: the fear of death that the blonde’s words had brought to the forefront, or the fact that she was even here. 

“Which is why I am most certainly not looking forward to jumping after you,” The woman drew herself up, crossing her arms. “But like I said, I’m too involved now.” 

Regina’s chest heaved. Now not only did her life hang in the balance, but that of this strange, kind woman’s as well. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered. 

A warm hand covered one of hers on the railing. “I can’t watch another star go out,” the woman whispered softly in her ear. “Not like this.” 

Regina closed her eyes, one of her hands finally finding the blonde’s. The woman gripped her hand tightly. 

She turned her body around slowly to face the woman, and she was so close that Regina could hear her draw breath, and smell the warm fragrance of her long blonde hair. 

Her eye crinkled in a lovely smile that sent shivers through Regina’s being. “There you go. I’m Emma Swan, if you’d like to know.” 

Regina chuckled, smiling past her tears. “I’m Regina Mills.” 

“Ah, Regina. A name fit for a queen,” Emma observed. “Let’s get you up here.” 

Regina put her foot on the next rung of the railing and went to swing her foot up and over, but to her horror felt herself slipping on the tangles of her own dress. The metal gave way to empty space as she fell with a bloodcurdling scream. 

“HELP!” Regina’s feet scrabbled desperately at the metal hull of the ship, but found no purchase. 

Emma’s grip on her hand tightened as she bore Regina’s weight. “Hey!” she yelled. “Look at me, listen. I’ve got you. I won’t let go, okay?” 

Regina locked eyes with her. She felt Emma brace herself and manage to pull Regina high enough for her to grab hold of the railing. 

Emma pulled her back over the railing, but Regina’s momentum carried her as she tumbled to the deck, too stunned to speak. She vaguely heard voices and swift footsteps, and she saw Emma half-rise to her feet, her brow furrowed. She felt unfamiliar arms lift her, wrap her in a blanket and help her over to a nearby bench. She was too numb to care, until a most unwelcome addition arrived.

“You!” Robin’s voice. 

Dammit! Regina sat up. He was glaring at Emma with an icy anger. 

“How dare you lay your hands on my fiance, you wench,” Robin snapped at her as a deckhand twisted Emma’s hands behind her into a pair of handcuffs. Regina frowned. What on earth did they think Emma had done? 

Oh. 

“Robin!” Regina called. She got to her feet and confronted him, putting herself between him and a confused-looking Emma. 

“It’s not what you think, Robin,” Regina told him. “I was just looking over the railing and...I slipped! You know how clumsy I can get.” 

Robin jerked his head in acknowledgment of this, though he still looked skeptical. Regina glanced at Emma, fear reflected in her eyes. He cannot know…

“Was that the way of it?” the deckhand demanded of Emma. 

Regina searched Emma’s eyes. The blonde nodded. “Yes, that’s what happened.”

“Well, that’s it then, the girl’s a hero,” the deckhand declared, releasing her hands. Emma rubbed her wrists as soon as they were free, giving Robin a distinctly put-out glare. 

Regina numbly let Robin start to lead her away, until the deckhand stopped him. “Ahem...perhaps a little something for the girl, eh?” 

Robin groaned quietly and turned around. He pressed a few pound notes into Emma’s hand - Regina saw Emma wince, they would be quite near useless in the States - and said, reluctantly, “Yes, how would you like to join us for dinner in first class tomorrow night, to regale us all with your heroic tale?” 

Emma’s eyebrows shot up in an endearingly cocky manner. “I’ll be there,” she said, staring Robin down. 

Regina blinked at her gratefully. Emma’s mouth curved into a half smile. For the first time in what felt like forever, Regina felt her stomach swoop and her heart lighten. 

Thank you.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **side note: if you haven't seen the picture of Jennifer Morrison in a tux, go look it up now.**

-later that night-

 

“Regina?”

Regina glanced up from where she’d been staring into her mirror, still lost in thought. When she saw Robin at her door, she swallowed anxiously, shoving her visions of Emma’s kindly face to the back of her mind. 

“Hello, darling.” Robin’s rough voice said as he came in, not bothering to wait for her bidding. He knelt at her side, holding an ornate jewellry box. “I know that you have been...melancholy. I don’t pretend to know why.”

That’s an understatement, Regina thought. 

“So, I decided that, while I had meant to wait to present this to you at our engagement gala...it might be a good way to remind you how I feel.” 

It was typical Robin, trying to buy her affections. Still, Regina couldn’t help but draw in a surprised breath at the jewel contained in the box: a stunning blue gem of unusual size, carved into a heart shape. 

“Good gracious,” Regina breathed. “Is it a -”

“Diamond, yes,” Robin supplied. He took the heavy-looking necklace out of its box and draped it around Regina’s neck without clasping it. “Fifty-six carats, to be exact. It was worn by Louis the Sixteenth. They called it Le coeur le Maire - “

“‘The Heart of the Ocean’,” Regina translated along with Robin. 

“Yes.” 

Regina fingered the heavy gem, her mind wandering unbidden back to Emma. “It’s overwhelming,” she whispered.

“Well, it’s for royalty,” Robin stated, making Regina’s jaw clench. “We are royalty, Regina.” 

He knelt next to her, his hand heavy at the back of her neck. “You know, there is nothing I couldn’t give you. Nothing I would deny you, if only you would not deny me.”

If he had said that to Regina a few months ago, it would have made her glow with pleasure. Now, she only felt a cold sinking in her stomach. 

“Open your heart to me.” Robin said smoothly. Like a snake, Regina thought.

She looked away with him, her hand still running over the deep blue diamond. What I desire most, you cannot give me, she realized. My heart is not yours for the taking, but mine for the giving.

She set her head. All she saw in Robin’s eyes was cold calculation. Perhaps once they were warm for her, but now all they were was greed, longing only to own her. 

I never chose this. 

 

\--April 11th, 1912--

 

“...and then there wasn’t much for me to do then but haul my butt out of there. Ruby didn’t thank me for leaving her to deal with the crooks, but I had to get Roland out of there.” 

Emma smiled at the rapt look on Regina’s face. It was the next morning, and Emma had come out to get fresh air only to find the woman pacing anxiously by the railing, waiting for her. To “thank her”, she’d said. If begging her to tell her entire life story counted as thanking her. Not that Emma minded, to be perfectly honest. There was something about the way her face worked when Emma made her laugh that made Emma itch for her pencil and sketchbook.

“So you’re like a modern day Robin Hood? Steal from the rich, give to the poor?” Regina laughed. 

“Says the woman engaged to Robin. Who the hell names their kid after a bird?” Emma snorted. She’d learned by now that Regina had absolutely no qualms about cracking jokes at her fiancee’s expense.

Regina shrugged. “My name literally means queen. I suspect that’s exactly what my mother had in mind, for me to be a royal.” 

“Well you certainly have the bearing of one,” Emma observed. Regina glanced at her, her umber eyes glimmering in the early morning sunlight. 

“But, I mean,” Regina went on, throwing her hands up. “I don’t want to be. I’ve always been different from my mother, from Robin.”

“I can see that too.” Emma said. She went to the railing, gazing out to sea.

“So, tell me, Miss Swan,” Regina said, planting herself on the railing by her elbow. “What brings you to Titanic? Family?” 

Emma could sense a distinct change of subject, but she let it slide. “Sort of,” she said. “I’d been trying to get tickets for passage for awhile, I just happened to win some for this ship in a lucky hand of poker. Most fortunate, as it were. When I get to America, I’m going to find my son, and start over. A new life, new...everything, really. Except I suppose Ruby will still be tagging along, the dork.” 

Regina frowned, tipping her head. “Your son?” she asked. 

Emma shrugged. “His name is Henry,” she supplied, her eyes growing unfocused. “I had a...fling...with an old flame. Neal. He died not long after, saving my butt from some unsavory characters. It was just me and Henry, and life isn’t easy in Paris for a single mother. My mother took him in and went over to America with him, until I could get passage.”

Emma fiddled with the pencil tucked behind her ears. “He’d be eight now, I think.” 

Regina’s soft hand touched her shoulder and came to rest on Emma’s arm, making long-dormant butterflies awaken in the blonde’s stomach. 

“So!” Emma pulled herself up, wanting to get her mind off of Henry. “I don’t suppose you came up here to chew over the weather and my parenting issues. Why are you really here?” 

Regina hesitated. “Miss Swan - “

“Emma,” the blonde interrupted. 

“ - Emma,” Regina corrected herself. “I wish to thank you. Not just for - pulling me back but for your discretion.” 

Emma nodded. Regina turned her face away. 

“I know what you’re thinking. Poor little rich girl, what does she know of pain?”

Emma shook her head. “No,” she said. “I was wondering what would push someone like you to think there was no way out.” 

Regina looked at her, dark eyes downcast. Emma felt her throat tighten. “It was just...everything. My whole life, and everyone in it. Everything, the entire path of my life rushing ahead, and me powerless to stop or even slow it.” She glanced down at her finger, adorned with a lavish and heavy-looking diamond engagement ring. 

“Good God,” Emma gave a short laugh. “Look at that thing! Would’ve drug you straight to the bottom.”

The look Regina gave her made Emma instantly regret her words. 

“So many invitations have gone out...anyone who is anyone in my mother’s eyes will be there...and yet there I was, feeling as if I were just standing there screaming in the middle of a crowded room, and no one even looks up.” Regina said. 

Emma settled herself back on her crossed arms, looking at Regina carefully. “Do you love him?”

Regina’s taken-aback expression answered Emma’s question well enough. “What?”

“Do you love him?”

Regina gaped like a fish out of water, very unladylike. “Well you’re being very rude, Miss Swan.”

“I get that a lot. I prefer to call it being bluntly honest. Anyway, it’s a simple question.” Emma raised an eyebrow. “Do you love this bird guy or not?” 

“He’s not a bird guy, and I think I’ve had enough of this.” Regina blustered defensively. “This is not a suitable conversation -” 

“Why can’t you just answer the question?” Emma said, her mouth twitching as Regina floundered for comebacks. 

Regina drew away, her face crinkling adorably in confusion. Emma smirked and followed her. 

“This is ridiculous!” Regina declared with a light laugh. “I don’t know you, and you most certainly don’t know me, and we are not having this conversation. You are rude and presumptuous, and I am leaving now.” She stuck out a pale hand and seized Emma’s free hand, shaking it roughly. “I sought you out to thank you and now I have -”

“And you’ve insulted me,” Emma noted dryly.

Regina narrowed her eyes. “Well, you deserved it.”

Emma drew back, her mouth rounding in a jesting “oh”. 

A few heartbeats passed, and Regina showed no sign of stopping her incessant shaking of Emma’s hand.

Emma’s eye crinkled. “I thought you were leaving.”

Regina drew herself up, though her bravado did not fool Emma in the slightest. “I am!” she insisted.

The woman let go of Emma’s hand and whirled. She only got a few yards away before she stopped. “Wait! This is my part of the ship - you leave!” 

Emma crossed her arms. “Oh, now who’s being rude,” she noted. 

Regina once again floundered, and Emma could practically see her mind fishing about for a smartass comment. 

“Well - “ Regina looked about for a scapegoat, and snatched Emma’s sketchbook from where the woman had been carrying it propped on her hip. “What is this thing you’ve been carrying, hm? Fancy yourself some sort of artist?” She flipped through the pages, her quick eyes scanning Emma’s drawings, her expression changing from annoyance to, surprisingly, curiosity and admiration. She settled down on a chair, engrossed in the book. 

Normally, Emma might have been a bit defensive, especially since it was mostly men interested in her drawings, and not for the art aspect - but now she simply sat down with a smirk on a nearby chair to watch Regina. 

“Well, these are - very good,” Regina observed. She pulled out a drawing of a mother and child, examining it closely. “Emma, this is beautiful work.” 

Emma shrugged. “They didn’t think much of them in old Paris.” 

Regina paused at a drawing of a very young baby boy, not much older than six months. It was beautifully done, soulful, almost real. She nearly felt like she could have reached through the paper and stroked the peach fuzz of the child’s hair.

“This is…?” she murmured.

“That’s Henry. I drew that a few days before my mother left with him.” Emma said, fighting to stay casual. 

Regina turned a page, much to her relief, but wound up coming upon Emma’s drawings of nude women in various poses. She glanced up at Emma, raising an eyebrow with some indescribable expression in her eyes. 

“These were...drawn from life?” she queried.

Emma was relieved to see no judgment from her. “Lot of women willing to strip for an artist in Paris. Purely artistic purposes…” she gave a shrug again. “Mostly.” 

Regina gave a short huff of laughter and continued her examination. 

“No, see that woman?” Emma intervened, pausing on a drawing of a young brunette with a pretty, dimpled face that wore an expression of sorrow. “She used to come to the same bar every night, cradling a chipped cup in her arms, just waiting for her love to come back to her.”

“Did they?” Regina asked. 

Emma shook her head. “Not so far as I know,” she said. “Her name was Belle Gold, but we called her Madame Bijoux. See how her clothes are all worn?” She shook her head sadly. 

Regina looked up at her. “You have a gift, Emma, you do.” She smiled warmly at Emma, making her heart skip a beat and her cheeks redden somewhat. “You see people.”

Emma’s eye crinkled. “I see you,” she said softly. 

Regina considered her. “And?” she asked.

Emma touched her hand. “You wouldn’t have jumped.” 

 

\---

 

They spent much of that day together, wandering about the decks and talking. Regina found herself utterly fascinated by the young blonde woman’s seemingly unbelievable stories of her life as a vagabond. 

“Why can’t I just do that?” she said wistfully, gazing out towards where the sun was starting to set, bathing them in golden light and making Emma’s hair glow like an angel’s halo. “Just wander freely, go where the day takes me. Light out for the horizon and never look back.” 

“Who says you can’t?” Emma said, her mouth twitching. “Maybe we’ll go there someday, to that pier.”

Regina looked at her, hope alight in her heart. “Even if we only talk about it?” 

Emma shook her head. “Nah, we’ll do it! I’ll grab Henry and we’ll go to the amusement park down there. We’ll eat corn dogs, you know, and ride on the roller coaster till we throw up - “ 

Regina laughed, something she hadn't done in God only knew how long.

“We’ll ride horses on the beach, right in the surf.” Emma grinned. “But none of that sidesaddle stuff, you gotta do it like a proper cowboy.”

Regina gave the blonde a look of confusion. “You mean...one leg on each side?”

Emma’s lips pursed in a look of withheld laughter. “Yup.” 

Regina rolled her eyes, about ninety nine percent sure that Emma had picked up on some obscure innuendo in her question.

“Can you show me?” Regina asked, her eyes lingering on Emma’s smile.

“It would be my pleasure,” Emma said with a smile.

“Show me how to ride like a man!” Regina declared.

“And shoot tobacco like a man,” Emma agreed. “Though this ‘like a man’ business is crap, we’re both women.” 

Regina gave her a mock-surprised look. “Oh, really? What gave it away?” 

Emma waved her hand over Regina’s body vaguely. “Oh, I don’t know. Breasts are usually kind of a dead giveaway. The hair suggests it as well. Though I have known some exceptions."

“Says the woman who seems to consistently like to pull down her hair for dramatic effect,” Regina observed. 

“My nickname as a child was Rapunzel because of this,” Emma laughed, wrapping a strand of her golden hair around a finger. “So it may have rubbed off on me, you never know.” 

“Rapunzel is also a type of lettuce, but you don’t seem like the salad type,” Regina countered. 

Emma slipped a little closer to Regina, until their elbows pressed up against each others’. “You never know,” she purred teasingly in her ear. 

Regina narrowed her eyes at her. “Teach me to spit like a man,” she said, turning her head to look at her, so that her lips were only an inch or two from the blonde’s. 

Emma’s eyes glinted with mischief. “They didn’t teach you that in finishing school?” 

“No!” Regina giggled. 

“That’s a shame. I must right this wrong!” Emma grinned broadly. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”  
Regina instantly regretted everything she’d ever said in her entire life. “Em-MA! No!” 

Emma looped her arm through Regina’s and half-dragged her to a bit of deck overlooking another deck clear of passengers. 

“EMMA!” Regina almost shouted. “No!”

“C’mon, Miss Mills,” Emma’s mischievous grin made Regina’s stomach do somersaults. Her resolve melted. 

“Oh, alright.” 

Emma’s face lit up eagerly. She demonstrated, hocking up a loogie that somehow managed to fly over half the deck below them. Regina’s mouth rounded in a mixture of impressment and disgust. 

Emma laughed brightly at the look on Regina’s face. “Your turn,” she said.

Regina pouted. She glanced around self-consciously, then spat a tiny, weak loogie.

Emma’s shoulders slumped melodramatically. “That was pitiful, lady! C’mon, you gotta really get some leverage...like…” Emma braced herself against the railing and spat another impressive loogie. “So.” 

Regina imitated her, making various snorting noises in her efforts. Unbeknownest to either of them, three all-too-familiar first-class ladies were making their way towards them, the foremost one with a distinctive look of disgust at the sight of her daughter.

Regina tried again, this time managing to land it about halfway to where Emma’s first loogie had. 

Emma nodded encouragingly. “That was better, now just try to really work it up in back - “ she said, getting another one ready.

“Regina?” Cora said from behind them. 

Shit. 

Regina turned, gritting her teeth and swatting at Emma to get her attention. The blonde, startled, looked around. 

It was Cora, Margaret, and one other woman Regina didn’t recognize. Regina quickly regained her composure.

“Mother,” she said formally, “this is Emma Swan.” 

Cora gave Emma a once-over, her eyes narrowing in undisguised disgust. “Charmed, I’m sure,” she stated. 

Margaret got Emma’s attention, gesturing to where Emma had a bit of spit on her chin. Regina had to stifle a giggle as the woman’s eyes widened, resembling nothing more than a scolded puppy. She wiped the spit away, exchanging a look with Regina. 

A bugle sounded nearby, signaling an hour to dinner.

“Mother, shall we get dressed?” Regina asked brightly, going to link arms with Cora. She turned to smile back at Emma, her whole face scrunching adorably. “See you tonight, Emma!” 

“Uhhh - “ Emma found herself suddenly at something of a loss for words. 

Margaret hung back, giving Emma a critical once-over of her own. “Hey, dear,” she said, drawing Emma’s attention to her. “You have any idea what you’re doing?” 

Emma shrugged vaguely. “Not really,” she said honestly. 

Margaret nodded pensively. “You’re going into the snake pit, no denying it.” She narrowed her eyes. “What are you planning to wear?” 

Emma gestured to her white button-down and overalls. Margaret clucked. 

“I figured. C’mon.” The kindly lady looped her arm through Emma’s and led her away.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, the first class and steerage parties!!! This chapter was so much fun to write, especially since the steerage dance has always been one of my favorite scenes of Titanic. On a side note, I can definitely see canonverse Regina as being skilled with a dagger, maybe as a backup weapon should her magic fail her, or if she encounters someone immune to magic perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't, go look up Jennifer Morrison in a tux. That was what inspired Emma in a tux here.

“There, just as I’d thought. You and my son are just about the same size...well, except for these.” 

Margaret pursed her lips critically, giving Emma’s breasts a death glare. Emma had to resist the urge to cross her arms over them, to spare her poor boobs from the woman’s withering scrutiny. 

Margaret reached forward, cinching the fabric of Emma’s undershirt under her cleavage experimentally. She shrugged. “Well, we’ll need to make do. If I take in this fabric a bit…” She bustled about, making the necessary adjustments. 

Emma let the woman work on the tuxedo she’d so kindly lent her, allowing her mind to wander somewhat. Perhaps Margaret sensed this, because a sudden jab to her rib jerked Emma out of her reverie.

“I know that look,” Margaret grinned up at her from where she crouched at Emma’s waist level. 

“Pfffft.” Emma actually did cross her arms this time. “Look? What look?” 

“Don’t play innocent with me, missy.” Margaret swatted in irritation at Emma’s elbows until she uncrossed her arms. “I’ve raised my share of children, I know that look. You’re hopelessly head over heels now, don’t deny it.” 

Emma shrugged. “Why should I deny it? I can never have - her…” she hesitated, glancing down at Margaret.

The woman didn’t miss a beat. “Why, ‘cause she’s first class? Or ‘cause she’s a woman? Because either way, it’s damn ridiculous. It’s love, something most of the stiff-necked goonies I’ve seen up here don’t come close to understanding.”

Margaret finished taking in the fabric of Emma’s shirt and straightened, admiring her handiwork. “There. This’ll knock her dead, just you wait. You shine up like a new penny.” She brushed off the top of Emma’s hair, which they had washed, straightened, and braided into a crown-like loop on the top of her head. 

“Okay, now scram,” Margaret ordered good-naturedly. “I gotta finish up some things myself. Go meet Regina by that big ol’ clock over there and I’ll be along.” 

Just a few minutes later, Emma found herself veritably stranded at said clock, tugging self-consciously at the collar of her tuxedo. A few of the women gave her odd side-glances, but no one seemed terribly put-out. She’d left her sketchbook under the watchful eye of Ruby for the night; but now felt extremely odd without its familiar presence by her side.

All of Emma’s trepidation, however, left her as soon as she spied Regina coming down the steps towards her. She was resplendent in a deep red dress, similar to the one she’d worn the night they met but a much different style, accentuating to perfection the graceful lines of her body, and the darkness of it playing with her raven-black hair to frame her lovely face. Emma found herself at a sudden and uncharacteristic loss for words.

Regina’s face broke into a smile, the distinct mischievous glint Emma had seen earlier up on deck returning to her umber eyes. Emma returned it with a dashing half-smile of her own and bowed, gently taking Regina’s hand and brushing it with her lips, her stomach fluttering uncontrollably. 

She winked up at Regina. “I saw that once in a nickelodeon,” she whispered conspiratorially. “I’ve always wanted to try it.”

Regina laughed softly. Emma straightened and offered her arm to her. Regina led her directly ahead to where Robin seemed to be escorting Cora to dinner - is that a custom among the rich? Emma wondered. Mother of the bride-to-be escorting the fiancee to dinner? If not, Robin’s a better actor than I would be… - 

“Robin, you remember Miss Swan, don’t you?” Regina prompted Robin gently. 

“Swan?” Robin raised both eyebrows, scrutinizing her haughtily. “Why, it’s amazing. You could almost pass for a gentle - woman? Man?” 

Emma narrowed her eyes in her favorite are you fucking serious right now expression. All she said out loud was, “Almost.” 

Robin and Cora proceeded into the lavish dining room. Emma exchanged a rueful smile with Regina, who nudged her encouragingly as they followed the others inside. 

Regina paused, her face lighting up as they surveyed the crowd of first-class passengers, all richly dressed, though none quite so well as Regina, Emma thought privately.

“There’s the Countess of Rothes,” Regina told her quietly of a woman in an expensive-looking blue gown, seeming pleased to be able to teach Emma something of her world. “Over there, John Jacob Astor and his wife, Madeline. She’s a bit younger than I and in a delicate condition if you’ll believe it - see how she’s trying to hide it?” Regina raised her eyebrows at Emma suggestively. “Quite the scandal. Ah, and there Benjamin Guggenheim and his mistress, his wife’s at home minding the children. Beyond them, that’s Sir Cosmo and Lady Lucille Duff Gordon, the richest couple on the ship. I think my mother has had more than a few rows with them about it, as a matter of fact.” 

Emma eyed them curiously. They all seemed roughly the same to her, all just well-dressed, well-mannered rich folk who said a lot but knew little. And yet at Regina’s words, it was if a little color came to these caricatures: life, children, stories. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who saw people. 

A familiar face bustled up to Emma’s other side: Margaret, having changed and freshened herself up, as she’d said she would. “Care to escort a lady to dinner?” she grinned at the pair. Emma proffered her free arm and led the way to the table where the others sat. 

Regina sat by Robin across the table, while Emma found herself shunted to a seat next to Margaret, much to her relief. She squinted at the array of utensils set before her, utterly confused. 

“Uh…” she muttered to Margaret, gesturing helplessly. 

“Just start at the outside and work your way in,” Margaret told her. 

“Tell me, Miss Swan,” Cora spoke up. “How are accommodations down in steerage? I hear they’re quite good.”

Emma winced internally; she’d been hoping that wouldn’t come to light, but ah well. “Quite good, ma’am. Hardly any rats.”

A general, polite laugh from the other occupants of her table. Regina exchanged a I’m sorry for this glance with Emma. Emma shrugged her head in response. She’d been in worse tangles. 

“Miss Swan is joining us from the third class,” Robin supplied rather unnecessarily. “She was of some assistance to my fiancee the other night.” 

Regina came to Emma’s defense. “I found that she is quite a fine artist. She was kind enough to show me some of her work this morning.”

Kind my ass, you snatched the thing from me! Emma had to suppress a snort of laughter, her expression not lost on Regina. 

“Regina and I differ somewhat on our definition of ‘fine art’, not to impugn your work, ma’am.” Robin said. Emma narrowed her eyes at him but let it slide.

She took a sip of champagne and her eyes widened. She glanced up and across to Regina, who winked at her. 

“In the eyes of God this ship rightly belongs to Thomas Andrews,” someone a few seats down from Emma said. “He knows every rivet in her, don’t you Thomas?”

Regina looked over at the man sitting on her other side. “Your ship is a wonder, Mr. Andrews.” 

Emma’s eyebrows rose curiously. So this was the man who built Titanic. He was a middle aged man, graying a bit, but still vital. 

“Thank you, Regina.” Mr. Andrews replied with a kind smile. 

A waiter bent down next to Emma. “And how will you take your caviar, miss?”

Emma curled her lip a little and shook her head. “No thank you. Never did sit well with me.” She exchanged a side glance with Regina, whose mouth twitched in reply. She winked and took another sip of champagne. 

“So where do you live, Miss Swan?” Cora asked, looking up at the blonde. 

“Well, at the moment I call the RMS Titanic home,” Emma said. “And after that…” she shrugged. “Wherever the wind takes me, really.” 

Cora’s eyes narrowed. “And how is it you have means to travel?”

Emma shrugged. “Well, my legs are in good working order, for one. And my charm is not lost on many, if I do say so myself.” She caught Regina’s eye, saw her chuckle at this. “But I won tickets on Titanic in a lucky hand of poker. A very lucky hand.” 

“All life is a game of luck,” a gentleman a few seats down from Emma declared.

Robin shook his head. “A real man makes his own luck.” 

Emma shot Regina an are you serious look. 

“And you find that sort of ruthless existence appealing, do you?” Cora asked, her distaste badly concealed. She gave Emma a glare like that of a chess player, calculating her next move. 

Emma returned the look. “Why, yes, ma’am, I do. I mean, I’ve got everything I need: air in my lungs, a few blank sheets of paper, boots for the walking. I love the freedom of, you know,” Emma paused, glancing over at Regina surreptitiously, “waking up in the morning not knowing exactly what I’ll be doing or who I’ll meet. I mean, just the other day I was camping out on on a bench, but now here I am having champagne with you fine folk.”

She held the glass up for a refill, nodding in thanks. “I figure life itself is a gift, and the last thing that I want to do is waste it. Things come at us by chance, yes, but it’s our choices as to how we deal with them that determine how our paths go. And that’s what I intend to do.” She drew herself up, emboldened by her little speech. “Make each day count.”

Margaret nudged her. “Well said, Emma.” 

“Hear, hear!” the gentleman declared.

Regina held up her glass, her eyes shining at Emma. “To making it count!” 

“To making it count,” the rest of the table’s occupants echoed, toasting her.

Emma raised her glass to Regina and took a sip, smiling at her with her eyes over the top of it. 

 

\---

 

“...And Mr. Brown had no idea I’d stuffed the money in the stove! So he comes home drunk as a pig and he lights a fire!” Margaret laughed at her own story, nearly spilling the remnant of her wine over Emma. Emma gave a hearty chuckle of her own and polished off her champagne. 

The gentlemen started to get up. Regina rolled her eyes at Emma. 

“Next it’ll be brandies in the smoking room,” she noted. 

Sure enough, one of the gentlemen announced, “Brandies in the smoking room, gentlemen?” 

Regina gave Emma a what did I tell you? look.

For her part, Emma shot the brunette a sharp I never said you were wrong, smartass look.

“They’ll disappear into a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe.” Regina told her.

Emma twisted her mouth wryly. “I guess that’s my cue then. Here, Margaret.” 

She handed the kind woman a thank-you cigar and got to her feet, going over to Regina. 

“Emma, must you go?” Regina asked.

Emma shrugged, though there was a crafty glint in her eye. “Ruby’ll be chewing the carpet in frustration if I don’t, so yeah, probably. Good night, Regina.”

She pulled Regina to her feet for a hug, twisting just enough to slip a tiny, folded piece of paper into the tight space between her dress and the soft skin of her shoulder. She winked as she drew away, leaving Regina to open the note stealthily, so as to not tip off Cora.

Make it count - it read in a childish, yet strangely graceful scrawl. Meet me at the clock.

Regina gazed after her, a smile spreading across her face. 

As soon as she could without tipping off her mother, Regina excused herself and made her way to the clock. Emma stood waiting, watching the clock but turning her head with a smile when she heard Regina approaching. 

She smiled bright as the sun, her blue-gray eyes twinkling as she took Regina’s hand. “So, you wanna go to a real party?” 

 

\---

 

The music of drums, bagpipes, and other Irish instruments filled the smoky air down in steerage, in a large room where an impromptu dance floor had been set up. Regina clapped along awkwardly, her attention directed to where Emma was doing a lively dance with a little girl, maybe about seven or eight years old. She could barely help but move to the beat, though she was too self-conscious to get up and dance herself. 

It was remarkable, Regina thought. The women around her were very poorly dressed compared to her and the other first class passengers, yet their smiles...their faces, were more truthfully joyful than any she’d seen yet, except for Emma and Margaret, perhaps. The atmosphere of the entire room was light, happy, and for the first time in her life Regina almost felt she was one of them.

A man next to her shouted something at her, but Regina could barely hear him over the band, and besides it sounded as if he spoke a language foreign to her. She looked at him and shrugged helplessly. 

Emma had changed back into her normal clothes, but let her hair flow loose instead of her usual messy ponytail, so that its waves shimmered golden with every move she made, and Regina was acutely aware of its peculiar yet gorgeous fragrance even from where she sat about a yard away. Her heart was warm and thumping wildly as she gazed at the beautiful blonde; and it occurred to her to wonder if this was love. She rolled her eyes, but had no more time to ponder the subject, for that was when Emma chose to bow gracefully to the little girl.

“I’m going to dance with her now,” Emma told her, gesturing to Regina. The little girl pouted, her huge doe-like eyes melting Regina’s heart - along with, it seemed, Emma’s.

Emma held out a hand for Regina. “You’re still my best girl, Cora,” she told the girl. Regina had to stifle a chuckle; this adorable girl was about as far removed from her mother as one could be. 

Emma spun Regina onto the dance floor, her scent now wreathing about Regina until between that, the smoky atmosphere, and the drinks she’d had she could hardly think straight. It all seemed like a dream; but Emma was real, this woman was real, and that look in her eyes gazing into Regina’s was real…

“Emma, I…” Regina floundered. “I don’t know the steps…”

“Neither do I! Just go with the music.” Emma’s face crinkled in her adorable smile. “We are gonna need to get a bit closer...”

Then her hand was at the small of her back, and she was so close to Emma their bodies met; yet with their height difference it all fit together like a puzzle. Emma guided her until she no longer needed it, because the music and Emma were so familiar that Regina moved with them as one. Every time Regina had had to dance with someone before, it had always been Robin or a potential suitor, and she had hated every moment; hated their too-stiff, commanding arms and wandering hands, hated their often alcohol-laden, hot breath on her. But this...this moment, with this woman, felt nothing but right. 

“Emma!” Regina laughed. “Emma - slow down -” even though that was the last thing she wanted - Emma grinned at her and clasped their hands, beginning to spin them around until Regina was sure if they let go they would go flying like balls from a string. “Emma!” 

Her face alight with laughter, Emma slowed them down until they split apart, still orbiting each other like twin suns. Emma started tap-dancing to the lively beat of the drums, looking at Regina challengingly as if to say, top that lady! 

Regina narrowed her eyes and drew herself up, yanking both of her expensive (and goddamned painful, as she’d often complained to Cora about) heels off and chucking them clear of the dance floor. She mimicked Emma at first, but as she found the beat she started to throw moves in she’d learned in dance class as a child, until she was tapping wildly and everyone was watching and applauding her, including Emma. 

She finally fell laughing into Emma’s arms, as easily as if she’d been doing it forever. Emma caught her ballerina-style, holding her over backwards with her lips only a finger’s-breadth away. Regina’s breathing caught. 

But then the moment was over, and Emma was pulling her to her feet. “C’mon,” she whispered hotly in Regina’s ear. “There’s someone who’s been dying to meet you.”

Emma dragged Regina by the hand through the crowd. “RUBY! RUBY RED LUCAS WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?” she shouted. The crowd parted, and Emma seized the hand of a pretty, young brunette from where she had been having an intense beer-drinking contest with two other immigrants. 

“Ruby!” Emma shouted. “This is Regina - remember the woman I’ve been telling you about?” 

The brunette gave Regina a critical once-over with her hand on her hip, though this look felt more jesting than the ones her mother and Robin often gave her, or the looks the first-class had been giving Emma. “So this is the woman you’ve been mooning over since we embarked,” she mused, grinning wolfishly at the suddenly incensed look on her friend’s face. She winked at Regina. “She’ll do, Emma, she’ll do.”

Emma let go of Regina’s hand briefly and gave Ruby a shove, sprawling onto the floor together and somehow managing to spill her beer all over both of them. Emma spluttered, looking up at Regina through soaked golden curls. Regina nearly doubled over laughing at the look on her face, resembling nothing more than a petulant puppy. She grabbed Emma by the hand and pulled her to her feet, supporting her briefly as she helped Ruby back up. 

Ruby clucked disapprovingly. “We even now?” she asked of Emma. “I’ll stop making innuendos and you won’t go spilling all my beer all over the place?” 

Emma cocked her head. “I’d be careful, Lucas,” she said mock-threateningly, before both women burst out laughing hysterically. 

Emma snagged a glass of beer and passed it to Regina before taking one for herself. Throwing care to the wind, Regina took a deep draft of the beverage, winking at Emma over the top.

“What?” she asked of the blonde’s surprised look. “You think a first class girl can’t drink?” 

Something caught her eye by the wall: a group of burly men, perhaps trappers or the like, were throwing knives at a target on the wall. Regina narrowed her eye, seized a bewildered Emma’s hand, and dragged her over. 

“You think you’re big tough men?” she challenged, shouldering her way to the front. She was a good head shorter than most of the trappers, but she had a distinct, almost commanding presence to her that immediately made them pay attention. Emma was round-eyed, and watching her made her knees go weak; even more so when Regina’s quick fingers snatched one of the trapper’s knives right off of him in the blink of an eye, holding the blade up to her face. “I bet I can take someone’s hat off with one of these things without so much as a nick.” 

The trappers exchanged glances, but were never ones to turn down a challenge. “Fifteen American dollars say you can’t,” one said in a thickly Scottish accent. Others chipped in with bets, and one brave soul stepped up to the target. 

Regina narrowed her eyes in concentration, swinging the heavy trapper’s blade in oddly practiced hands. A swish and a flick of her wrist and the knife flew through the air, neatly catching the man’s hat and pinning it to the wall behind him. 

The crowd, which seemed to have doubled since Regina had announced her challenge, burst into thunderous applause at the feat. Regina, however only had eyes for Emma; turning, she saw the blonde standing with mouth agape, seemingly in utter shock at this new talent.

“Do I even want to know how you happen to be able to throw a knife better than most men I know?” Emma asked weakly, some odd but not unpleasant expression playing about in her eyes.

Regina grinned at her. “I have a very...exact touch,” she said silkily. 

Emma was vaguely aware of Ruby snorting derisively behind her, and swiftly gave her friend another shove - directly into a growing line of dancers winding its way across the room. Next moment Ruby seized Emma’s hand in retaliation, and Emma grabbed Regina’s, and she was swept off her feet again in the music; and she was laughing and Emma’s hair was waving and the scent of her washed over her like a wave, and for the first time in her life Regina’s heart was full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> when I was writing the steerage dance, I mostly listened to three songs: "Irish Party in Third Class" by James Horner, which is the soundtrack piece from the scene, "See You Tomorrow" by John Powell (from HTTYD1), because of its bouncy Irish/Scottish influenced tune, and "Touch the Sky" by Julie Fowlis (from Brave).


	6. Chapter 5

\--April 12th, 1912--

“I thought you would come to me last night,” Robin said over breakfast the next morning. 

“I was tired,” Regina said dismissively, but worry sparked in her belly. It was true; after the party she had been too exhausted and, quite frankly, rather too drunk to do much more than collapse on her bed and fall right to sleep, only pausing to slip into her nightgown. 

“Yes, your exertions below deck were no doubt exhausting,” Robin said casually, though his eyes were hard.

Oh, shit. 

Regina’s mind raced. Hook. Of course. He’d sent the valet to spy on her. He’d never done so before - though, she’d never tried something like that before, and Regina most certainly would not have put it past him. 

“I see you had that drunken-off-his-arse pirate of a manservant follow me. How typical,” Regina said, struggling to keep her voice even and free of fear. 

“You are not to behave like that again, Regina, do you understand me?” Robin said, his eyes giving away nothing. 

Regina drew a deep breath. “I am not a foreman in one of your mills that you can just order around at your whim,” she said. “I am your fiancee - “ 

“Fiancee!” Robin cut her off sharply, his voice rising. Regina shrank back in her seat as he rose. “My fiancee!”

He kicked the table brutally, sending china everywhere, only barely missing Regina. He stormed towards her, grabbing her forcefully by the shoulders and giving her a rough shake. “My wife in practice if not by law, and you will honor me!” 

Regina’s heart thudded in fear, her dark eyes wide like a cornered cat’s.

“You will honor me the way a wife is required to honor her husband,” Robin growled, taking her chin roughly and forcing her to look at him. “I will not be seen as a fool, Regina. I chose you. Do you understand me?”

Regina shook her head. She had never seen this side of Robin before - he’d always been controlling, yes, but never like this, always civil, and certainly never this physical - and it terrified her. She had no idea what he would do.

He straightened, giving the wreckage of their early morning tea-table a scornful look. “Excuse me.” 

The maidservant bustled back in from where she’d likely been hovering worriedly after that crash. “Oh, Miss Regina -” 

Regina struggled to breathe past the lump that had grown in her throat, and the fear constricting her chest. “Oh, Trudy - I’m sorry - we had a - little spat - “

She knelt, shaky hands trying to help the maid. “It’s all right miss - “ the maid told her, gentle hands laid on her arm. 

Regina looked up at the maid’s surprisingly tender, kind gaze. Her throat finally loosened, tears coming out as she slumped shakily back against her chair. 

This was what she had to look forward to, all the days of her life. Being a puppet, a child factory essentially for her husband, a bridge to a wealthy family for her mother. And it was the worse now that she had tasted freedom, had perhaps even tasted the possibility of a different life - was it possible? Could two women - Regina had heard of such things, always in condemning tones but then that from her mother, what did she care? - could they possibly have a happy ending? 

Did she even have a choice?

\----  
Later that morning, Regina was bracing herself against a bedpost as Trudy did her corset-lacing when the door to her room opened and the voice she’d been dreading since Robin’s outburst lashed out at her. 

“Trudy, tea.” Cora commanded. The kindly maidservant had no choice but to obey, leaving the two women alone. 

Regina glared at her mother with all the defiance she could muster at the moment. Cora ignored this, merely gesturing for her to turn so she could continue with the lacing. 

“You are not to see that girl again,” Cora said tightly, yanking painfully on the laces. “Regina. I forbid it.”

Regina sucked in her breath, summoning every ounce of sass she possessed. “Oh, mother, stop, you’ll give yourself a nosebleed.”

She could almost hear Emma yelling “Pitiful, lady!” in the background. Her mouth twisted at the thought. 

Cora was most certainly not amused. She spun Regina forcefully, sending shudders through her at her mother’s touch. 

“This is not a game,” Cora told her, brown eyes just as intense as Regina’s own flashing. “Our situation is precarious. You know quite well the money is gone.”

Regina curled her lip. “Of course I know it’s gone. You never fail to remind me.” 

“Your father left us nothing but a legacy of bad debts hidden by a good name. That name, Regina, is the only card we have left to play.” Cora’s face was hard, but unlike Robin’s cold, unchanging expression, hers was animated, passionate, firm but not intentionally cruel. “I don’t understand you! The match with Robin is a good one, and it will ensure our survival.” 

That is correct; you don’t understand, Regina thought. “How can you put this on my shoulders? What if it is a burden I do not wish to bear?”

Cora’s teeth gritted. “Why are you being so selfish?”

Regina’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m being selfish!” 

Cora’s eyes were disgustingly desperate now. “Do you want to see me working as a miller again, toting flour in one of those filthy factories? To see all our fine things sold at auction? Our memories, scattered to the wind?”

Cora backed away, her voice catching towards the end of her tirade. Regina fished for something to say; she could not simply be angry with her mother, and yet - 

She looked down. “It is so unfair.”

Cora looked back at her, a now-tender hand brushing her chin where Robin had so roughly jerked it about earlier. “Of course it is unfair,” she said softly. “We’re women. Our choices are never easy.”

Our choices. 

Cora’s words echoed in her mind as her mother continued her rough tying of Regina’s corset. Choices. Did she, perhaps, have even the wildest hope of a choice?

There is always a choice, Emma’s voice echoed in her mind. Don’t let them take that from you too.

 

\---April 13th, 1912--

 

“Regina - “ Emma scurried down the steps towards the first class chapel, only briefly pausing to greet Mr. Andrews, who was kind as always, if a bit surprised to see her back in first class.

She rushed to the door, but before she could push her way in, a doorman blocked her way, giving her a very strange look.

“You are not to be here -” he told her. Emma’s eyes narrowed.

“Please, I just need to see Regina -” she pleaded. 

The door opened, but instead of Regina it was that shady manservant of Robin’s, Hook. “Sorry, love, but while Mister Hood and Miss Mills continue to be grateful, your presence is no longer welcome.”

Emma stood toe-to-toe with him. “I just need to give her something.”

Hook was unmoved. “Need I remind you, miss, that you hold a third class ticket, and furthermore…” his eyes ran up and down her body. “Suffice it to say, it is no longer appropriate for you to be here.” 

Emma’s lip curled defiantly. She deliberately landed a well-aimed stomp to the manservant’s rather badly-polished boots and whirled, storming out with the poise of a woman on the warpath. 

 

\---April 14th, 1912---

 

A couple of days later, Regina was following her mother and Robin on something of an impromptu tour of Titanic’s bridge, courtesy of Mr. Andrews. There had been no sign of Emma since the steerage party; she supposed the woman had caught wind of Cora and Robin’s forceful disapproval and wisely made herself scarce, which granted wasn’t hard on a ship this size, and especially not for someone like Emma, she suspected. Still, she could not suppress a distinct disappointment. 

She watched as a messenger came up to the captain, looking anxious. “Sir, another ice warning. This one’s from the Nordan.”

Regina’s brow furrowed. She did not know much of sailing, but she did know that icebergs were something of a threat. 

The captain must have seen her concerned look, because when he looked up he met her eye and gave her a reassuring smile. “Ah, not to worry, my dear. Quite normal for this time of year. In fact, we’re speeding up. I’ve just ordered the last boilers lit.” 

Somehow, that did not seem particularly encouraging to Regina, but she kept her concerns to herself. As Mr. Andrews took them along the boat dock, however, something else caught her attention. 

“Mr. Andrews, excuse me. I’ve been doing the numbers in my head, and correct me if I’m wrong, but there don’t seem to be quite enough lifeboats for everyone on board.” Regina looked up at the kind-faced man; at her words a shadow seemed to cross his expression, though it was gone just as quickly.

“About half, actually,” he said. “You miss nothing, do you Regina.”

He continued on down the deck. “I put in these new type davits, which are capable of taking another row of boats behind the ones present. But it was thought by some that the deck would look too cluttered; so I was overruled.” 

Behind Regina, Robin scoffed. “Waste of deck space as it is, on an unsinkable ship.”

Mr. Andrews shot Robin a look. “Sleep soundly, young Regina. I have built you a good ship, strong and true. She’s all the lifeboat you’ll ever need.” 

Mr. Andrews went on ahead. Regina went to catch up to the others, but a sudden "psssst" from one of the lifeboats caught her attention. 

She whirled. The canvas covering of one of the lifeboats lifted to reveal a grinning Emma, poking her head out at her. “It worked! Mind giving me a hand? It’s a bit tight in here…”

Regina couldn’t suppress a whuff of laughter despite the sudden tension that seized her as she took Emma’s gloved hand, helping her to slither out from under the canvas and land somewhat ungracefully on her behind. 

“Emma!” Regina hissed as soon as the blonde was free. She dragged her into a nearby empty parlor, shutting the door sharply behind her and whirling to face Emma. 

“Emma, this is impossible and you know it,” Regina said desperately. “I - I can’t see you.”

“Regina - “ Emma went to put her hand on Regina’s arm but when she flinched she drew back, a look of utmost concern on her lovely face. “I need to talk to you.”

“Emma…” Regina looked at her, but she couldn’t bear to stop her. Not when she seemed to be the only good in her life at the present. 

“No, okay.” Emma swallowed. She had always prided herself on her honesty - which, as she’d said, often bordered on rudeness. Yet this was harder than any she’d ever known. “Let me just try to get this out.”

Her green eyes looked intently into Regina’s. “Regina, you are like no one I have ever met. A lot might call you a spoiled brat, and you are to an extent but only by nurture, not nature. Under that, I see you - the real you, the you that’s fought to get free of that every step of the way. And I…” she hesitated, her face full of some indescribable emotion. “I’m not an idiot, Regina. I know how the world works. I,” she laughed hollowly, “I’m a woman. This love that I feel...it’s forbidden, frowned upon. I have absolutely nothing to offer you.” 

She looked down, and Regina’s throat tightened but in a completely different way.

“But I’m too involved now,” Emma said. “You jump, I jump, remember?”

She did. Regina longed for nothing more than to tell her everything...but fear clouded her gaze. She was trapped - 

“I can’t turn away without knowing you’ll be all right.” Emma went on. “That...that’s all that I want.” 

Regina’s chest heaved, and she looked away with difficulty. “I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’ll be fine, really - “

“Really?” Emma’s eyebrows shot up, but not from humor; her eyes were nearly cloud-gray with worry. “I don’t think so. They’ve got you trapped, Regina, and you’re gonna die if you don’t get free. Maybe right away because you’re strong - “

Emma looked at her desperately, sensing she’d hit a chord. Regina knew. “Sooner or later,” she said, her chin trembling with unbidden emotion, “That fire that I love about you, it’s gonna burn out.” 

Regina trembled, her eyes fearful. “It’s not up to you to save me, Emma.”

Emma blinked. “No,” she agreed. “Only you can do that.” 

Regina reached out a hand to touch Emma, to caress her cheek down to her chin tenderly. She touched a finger to Emma’s full, rose-pink lips, feeling her breath hot on her hand. The woman’s scent seemed to bathe her, speaking of something foreign and yet inviting: home in her arms, no matter where they may be. Fire could burn, yes, she knew that well; but also it was gentle, warming, and absolutely essential. Her heart seemed to churn; she burned with desire for this woman, and now she knew that Emma did too; but what would the consequences be should she choose…

“I - I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m going back - please - don’t.” 

She slipped out of the parlor, struggling to regain control of her body, which was wracked by sobs. 

Emma watched her go, her now storm-gray eyes longing but with a seed of hope at their core. She knows, she thought. It’s up to her now. 

 

\---

 

Regina was utterly numb all throughout dinner that evening. Cora was discussing some wedding arrangement or another with her gaggle of rich lady friends, ignoring Regina altogether; which was likely a good thing, considering her present distraction. 

Regina let her eyes wander. A few tables away she saw a girl, much the same age as the little Cora Emma had danced with down in steerage. Only this girl was prim, dressed in lace and sitting like a proper lady as her mother instructed her.

It was a cycle, never ending. Perhaps someday that might be her, with Robin’s child. Grooming their child to be the next prim, proper lady.

And yet...there was no joy in the young girl’s face, just as there never had been in Regina’s heart. She was trapped just as surely as Regina was, as her child would be.

Unless. 

Unless...she chose a different path. 

Unless she broke this cycle.

That was when she knew. She did have a choice. 

And the caged bird flew free. 

 

\---

 

She padded towards the silent figure at the bow, standing unmoving like a figure of old, her golden hair flowing and shimmering in the light of the setting sun. 

“Emma.” 

The blonde whirled, a smile of immeasurable love and relief spreading across her face. “Regina.”

“I changed my mind.” Regina told her. Her body shook but never had her mind been so firm. “I choose you, Emma Swan.”

Emma’s breath caught. “How did you find me?”

Regina approached her, her hand reaching out for Emma’s. “I will always find you.”

She then shrugged with a smile. “Well, that and Ruby pointed me in your direction, after having a good guffaw of course - said something about a bet - “

A slim, calloused finger pressed to Regina’s lips, quieting her. Regina’s eyes met Emma’s, and she let the blonde draw her gently to her, until she could feel her chest move as she drew breath. Her arms were warm, never forcing, only asking, only protecting. 

“Close your eyes,” Emma whispered in her ear. Regina obeyed, letting her lead her to the bow. “Step up here - that’s it. Hold on to the railing, and don’t peek -”

Regina smiled. “I’m not.” 

“Now step up onto the rail.” Emma’s voice guided her. She felt the blonde’s warm presence behind her, holding her up. “Do you trust me?”

The wind whipped at her face, and yet Regina felt no cold. “I trust you,” she answered strongly.

Emma guided Regina’s arms up until they were outstretched like a bird’s wings. “Alright,” she whispered, clasping her hands around Regina’s waist, “open your eyes.”

Regina obeyed - and gasped as it seemed that she was no longer tied to the ground, but soaring above the ocean like some great sea-bird, flying into a sunset of gold and orange, warmth and the scent of paper and graphite - 

Emma’s breath was warm on her skin as she leaned her chin on Regina’s shoulder, breathing in deeply. Regina looked at her, her heart seeming to swell with love for this woman, and wishing for nothing more than to feel her lips on hers -

Perhaps Emma sensed this too, perhaps she saw it in her eyes; for next moment she had intertwined her fingers with Regina’s and her lips were pressing to hers, and they were warm, sweet, everything Regina had imagined them to be. She leaned in, wishing for more; and Emma obliged, kissing her with more passion than Regina had ever known. 

The ship carried them forward, and Regina felt as if they were flying together, forever intertwined as they journeyed into a night without fear.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the chapter I'm sure a lot of you have been waiting for... 
> 
> I'm so sorry it's taken so long, I got kind of burnt out after work on such a long project, being used to one-shots as I am. The second half will be coming, hopefully sooner than later though I can't make any promises at this point. Thank you to those readers who have stuck around thus far :)

-night of April 14th 1912 - 

\--six hours before--

 

Regina held open the door to her room for a bemused-looking Emma. The blonde scanned the space with the look of a hunted cat, as if worried Robin or Cora might spring from behind a piece of furniture at any moment. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not expecting Robin until the after-dinner cigars and brandies wear out, which on a ship like this, takes a while. My mother’s at a party; she’s not expecting me along, and I gave the servants a paid night off. We’re quite safe.” Regina fluttered about the room, lighting various candles. “Is this enough light?”

“What?” Emma looked up from examining some left-over kale salad Regina had had brought up earlier as a snack. 

“Don’t artists need good light?” Regina said, a glint in her eye as she flitted about, her quick movements betraying her nervousness and excitement. 

Emma tipped her head. “Well, yes, but I must say I’m not used to working in such affable surroundings. In any case, what are you on about?”

Regina gave her a come with me gesture. She went to Robin’s safe in the other room, unlocking it and pulling out the ornate jewellry box. 

“Whoa,” Emma’s mouth rounded in an awestruck “oh” as Regina opened the box to reveal the deep blue gem. “Is that a sapphire?”

“A diamond,” Regina corrected her, holding it up to the light so that the jewel shone in multiple shades of blue. “Emma, I want you to draw me like one of your French girls. Wearing this.” 

Emma nodded, still examining the diamond curiously.“Okay.” 

Regina raised one eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing about her lips. “Wearing only this.”

That got Emma’s attention. She gaped like a goldfish out of water, an adorable expression that never ceased to melt Regina’s heart. “Go get ready, Miss Swan,” she said in her most sultry of tones. 

Emma obeyed, though her hands were shakier than usual as she arrayed pillows on a luxurious couch and used her pocket knife to sharpen her pencil, nearly splitting the thing in half when Regina revealed herself, dressed in nothing but a thin robe. 

Her brown eyes searched Emma’s currently amber and green ones. “The last thing I need is another portrait of myself looking like a porcelain doll,” she said in a low yet light tone. A graceful hand extended from under her robe to deposit a dime in Emma’s hand. “As a paying customer, I expect to get what I want.”

Emma gulped; the motion had revealed a fleeting glimpse of pale, elegant leg beneath the robe. She had done this God knows how many times before, but never had she been quite this...turned on by her subject. 

Regina’s eyes never left hers as she stepped back, easing the robe off her shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. Emma had known quite well that Regina was slim but shorter than she, and rather more stockily built; and her dresses had always done a good job of showing off her graceful curves, but seeing her like this - it took the blonde’s breath away. 

“I do believe you are blushing, Miss Swan,” Regina observed lightly as she went to lie on the couch. “I cannot imagine artists like Monet blushing at such pursuits.”

“Monet…” Emma said, her lips curling in her characteristic half-smile, “painted landscapes.” 

Regina rolled her eyes. “Potato, po-tah-to. How do you want me to…?”

Emma was all businesslike bravado then. “Arm up - hand by your face, that’s it. Here - “

She got up and carefully rearranged the gem to lie in the soft valley at the base of her throat, her hands cool against Regina’s skin. Her fingers lingered for just a moment before they retreated, picking up her pencil and beginning to brush across the surface of her paper. 

Emma blew a stray lock of hair out of her face, her eyes flitting over Regina with the observant gaze of an artist at work. Regina couldn’t suppress a laugh at her expression.

“Why so serious Miss Swan?” she grinned.

Emma tipped her head, giving Regina her c’mon, seriously? look. “Relax your face. No laughing.” 

That only made it harder for Regina to resist. Her legs shuffled uncomfortably as she watched Emma’s movements, as she became aware of arousal burning unbidden between them. 

Time slipped by them, and it fell silent, but not an oppressive silence such as Regina had often known, but a warm silence; a familiar one. The scratch of Emma’s pencil was the only sound, and yet it became as familiar as the woman’s voice. Regina watched her intently; memorizing the way her face worked, how her hand used swift, light strokes, or rubbed the paper firmly to shade. The wetness between her legs only grew more and more uncomfortable as she forced herself to simply observe. She did wonder if Emma noticed; from the looks she kept giving whenever Regina met her gaze, she got the distinct feeling that she did. 

What seemed like an eternity later, but was probably only about an hour, Emma looked up from her work with a satisfied smile. “Done.”

Regina drew the robe back around herself and got up to examine the drawing.

Emma had delivered on her request; instead of a doll-like portrait devoid of imperfections along with any semblance of emotion or meaning, this one was soulful, real, with dark eyes that pulled you in with some great, mysterious fire in their depths. Is this how she sees me? It took Regina’s breath away; it was as if she saw herself through another’s eyes, and what she saw was truly beautiful. 

Regina gave Emma a kiss of gratitude as she handed over the drawing. “Thank you,” she whispered. She handed Emma the gem in its box. “You think you could put this back for me?”

Emma nodded and heaved herself to her feet. 

Regina bustled about with determined casualness, changing into a light evening dress and leaving the drawing and a note for Robin alongside the jewellry box in the safe. A hard knock at her door made her jump and rush back to Emma’s side. Emma jumped to attention, her body tensing against Regina’s like a lioness ready to strike.

“Miss Regina?” Hook’s perpetually slurred voice shouted through the door. Regina’s eyes widened; this again?! 

She took over, shoving Emma out a side door into the corridor. “Play casual,” she commanded in a whisper. 

The door reopened a few minutes later. “SWAN!” 

“Shit, nevermind!” Regina cursed, body-slamming Emma again as she broke into a run. “RUN!”

They pelted down the hallway, Emma thinking fast as she took the lead. “We’ll lead him on a merry!” 

“A what?!”

“A good ol’ fashioned Paris slum chase!” Emma panted as she rounded a corner, vaulting a staircase railing and landing nimbly on the floor below. She lifted Regina up and over, then just as quickly felt herself being yanked forcefully into a nearby lift. 

“Down! DOWN!” Regina ordered the lift operator. The door closed right as Hook finally caught up, looking bewildered, put-out, and as per the norm stumbling-headlong-into-walls drunk. 

Regina snorted at the sight of him. Clutching at Emma with one arm, with the other she flipped the valet the bird. 

The lift landed them at E Deck. Regina dragged Emma by the hand out into the corridors, taking a few twists and turns before allowing them to catch their breath - a pursuit largely in vain, because no sooner had they stopped than they both burst into peals of laughter. 

“D-did you see his face?!” Regina choked, clinging to Emma’s shoulder for support.

“Bloody brillian-” Emma cut herself off sharply as she caught sight of something through a window “Fuck - it’s him, run!” 

Emma took off again, her longer legs putting her at something of an advantage in speed. Regina panted as she tried to keep up. Thinking fast, she put some distance between them and the pursuing Hook, then dragged Emma by the scruff of her jacket into a room, locking the door behind them. 

The room was small and hot, and the deafening roars of boilers drowned out their voices. Regina covered her ears, spotting a ladder leading down a round hole that reflected orange light onto the wall. 

She exchanged a glance with Emma, who already had her dashing grin going. She rolled her eyes and made for the ladder, but Emma beat her to it, nimbly descending it and helping her down. 

The ladder had, as Regina suspected, led them to the boiler room. They looked around, surrounded by the confused looks of the many stokers that worked down here. 

“‘Ey, you’re not supposed to be down here - “ one shouted, coming towards them. Emma seized Regina’s hand and broke back into a run, dragging her into the next room and shutting the door behind them. 

Regina looked about them; this room seemed to be a cargo hold, full of lashed-down boxes, and in the middle of them a shiny new automobile. This caught her eye.

“Emma?” Regina looked at her. 

Emma followed her gaze, grinned wolfishly and made her way over to the car, going to pull herself up on the driver’s seat. Regina slipped into the backseat and leaned forward, pushing down the window that separated them. 

Emma arched her neck proudly, looking at Regina with a swish of golden hair and sky-gray eyes. “Where to, miss?” 

Regina narrowed her eyes, grinning. “To the stars.”

Boldly, she snaked both her arms out and veritably dragged a laughing Emma into the backseat with her, so that the blonde now lay on top of her with her hair falling like a curtain around their faces, making the burning that had somewhat subsided return with a vengeance. Only now, Regina was more than ready to sate it. 

Emma’s face was calm now, looking down at Regina. “Regina...are you certain?”

Regina’s breath caught, and with certainty in her eyes she nodded. 

Emma looked down significantly. “Have you ever...done this before?”

Regina shook her head. “I have with Robin, but never with a woman.”

Emma narrowed her eyes. “Oh, trust me. I can do so much better than that -” 

Regina laid a slim finger against her lips, cutting Emma off abruptly and, comically, making her go cross-eyed. She pushed herself back so she was in a half-sitting position, and leaned up to meet Emma’s lips with hers, pulling her down with her and finally allowing her hands to roam over the blond’s toned body.

Emma wasted no time, her nimble fingers finding the fasteners to Regina’s thankfully simple dress. She drew back slightly to pull the dress away from Regina’s torso, sliding it down slowly to reveal a lacy black bra and matching panties. She let her fingers brush over soft skin as she drew the dress off altogether, letting it drop to the car floor. 

The burning of Regina’s arousal became nearly unbearable, her wetness now quite evident to a searching Emma. Regina let out a soft, instinctual moan, her eyes tightly closed as she maneuvered her hips, trying to grind against Emma but the woman kept herself tantalizingly out of reach. 

“Patience,” she hissed softly, fingers working to massage the muscles of Regina’s thighs and belly, sending warmth through her body and yet making her shiver involuntarily under her expert touch. She worked her way up slowly yet steadily to the bra she had uncovered, running a finger under its wire. Regina’s fingers fumbled to help with the clasp, unlatching the bra and all but ripping it off of herself. Emma’s hands went to work at once, circling each nipple and massaging them strongly, squeezing the whole breast periodically. Regina’s muscles tensed and relaxed in response to every motion, and she let out a guttural sigh when Emma leaned down to kiss each breast, tweaking the nipples with her teeth. 

The inside of the car seemed to have become unbearably hot to Regina, her need to feel Emma overpowering. She reached up and pulled Emma down, grinding her hips against the rough leather of the woman’s breeches. Her lip curling at the chafing feeling of the material, she set about ridding Emma of the offending garment, and soon tossed it away to join her dress on the floor. The jacket and shirt followed suit, until Emma laid full length against her, bare skin pressed against hers. She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Emma...please…”

Emma’s leg bent, her knee coming up against Regina’s clit and making the woman give a sharp cry of pleasure. She braced herself as her back arched. Emma continued, her fingers now making their way down through wisps of dark hair to rub at Regina’s clit, every so often dipping lower into her wet folds. Regina flexed, her hands sliding wildly over Emma’s bare, smooth back as a finger slid into her, massaging her g-spot expertly. Another finger soon joined, sending almost paralyzing waves of pleasure through her body as she responded to Emma’s touch like a harp being strummed. 

Regina gasped as pressure built within her, twining he fingers of one hand into Emma’s hair. The orgasm seized her body like a paralyzing wave of pleasure, causing her back to arch and a loud cry of “Emma!” to escape her lips. This was worlds different from sex with Robin; that had been, at best, spotty. Where Robin was rough, Emma was precise, playing her like an instrument.

When Regina slowly came down from her high, she opened her eyes - when had she closed them? - to see Emma gazing down at her, cloud-gray eyes gleaming with some inner fire of desire. Regina’s own eyes narrowed briefly as if in calculation, then she brought her knee up to meet Emma’s only remaining piece of clothing, a pair of ragged old boy’s briefs. Regina growled nearly ferally in the back of her throat and worked at the thing, soon casting it away in favor of what lay beneath. 

Emma moaned softly as Regina rubbed at her clit. She pulled the blonde down to lay on top of her, then rolled so that Emma’s back was braced against the leather seat of the car. She removed her hand and ground herself powerfully against Emma’s sex, eliciting another rumbling moan from the blonde. 

“In-” Emma muttered nearly incoherently, her eyes closed and her muscles rippling under her skin. 

Regina slipped her hand between their bodies and circled Emma’s clit, making her leg jump and twine with hers. Then she entered Emma with one finger, then another, feeling the blonde’s muscles clench around her.

“There you go,” Regina breathed, leaning in and gently beginning to plant kisses all around the nape of Emma’s neck, lingering upon her neck and opening her eyes to gaze upon her lovely face, the blonde woman’s eyes closed as if in a trance. Regina increased the pace of her thrusting and felt rather than heard her moan softly. 

Emma’s arm clutched at Regina’s shoulder and she arched her spine, giving a throaty cry as she came. Regina supported her gently as she was gripped by the force of her orgasm, pulling out her fingers and cleaning them.

Regina burrowed into Emma’s side as she gradually came down from her high and relaxed around her like a warm blanket, her soft scent filling her with an overwhelming feeling of contentment. 

“I love you,” Emma breathed, nuzzling into the top of Regina’s head. Regina pulled herself closer, twining their legs together. 

“As do I.” 

They lay like that for several long heartbeats, until suddenly they heard scuffling, and the sounds of many booted footsteps. Regina’s eyes flew open in horror, and in a flash both women were sent scrambling for their clothes. 

A few minutes later they scrambled out onto the cold air of the open deck, having narrowly avoided their pursuers yet again. 

Regina laughed giddily, feeling more lighthearted than she had in years upon years. She clutched at Emma’s arm, and their lips met again in sweet familiarity. 

“When we dock in America...I’m getting off with you.” Regina murmured into Emma’s ear, propping her chin on the slightly taller woman’s shoulders and burying her nose in her sweet-smelling hair. 

She could feel Emma smile. It was all the reply she needed. 

Suddenly, a bell tolled and the deck shuddered violently underneath their feet, shaking the lovers out of their reverie. Clutching Emma’s hand in terror, Regina whirled to see a huge iceberg pass the Titanic, flush against the side and seemingly scraping the ship, only yards away from them. Shouts echoed from the lookouts above them, and with a sinking feeling Regina’s eyes met Emma’s. 

Good feeling gone.


End file.
